Page 33 of Accidentally Fudging the Beast
Trent finds a hallway I'm ninety percent sure wasn't there earlier, then leads me through a gallery of framed team photos and past a sideboard decked with Christmas nutcrackers and at least three candles labeled "Festive AF."
At the end, he pauses at a closed door, glances over his shoulder, and gives me a sly, unrepentant grin.
"What?" I ask, my heart pounding for reasons that have nothing to do with nerves or the amount of sugar I've consumed tonight.
He leans in, his nose brushing mine, and drops his voice an octave. "You looked too fucking beautiful, staring at me like you wanted to taste me, Sunshine."
"It's your fault," I grumble, my hands already tangled in his jacket, hauling him closer. His cologne wafts around me, woodsy and decadent, and the way my stomach clenches nearly kills me.
He doesn't say anything, just opens the door and tugs me inside. It's dark, but he finds the light switch within seconds.
It's a guest bedroom, bigger than my last four apartments combined. There's a king-sized bed, and a wall of snowy windows. The bedspread is white with red snowflakes, and the rug is so thick my boots sink into it like quicksand.
The second the door latches, Trent is on me.
He slams me gently against the wall, both hands flat on either side of my head. His Santa hat tilts sideways and slides down, obscuring his eyes.
"Been wanting to get you alone all night," he growls, the words rumbling from deep in his chest.
I have about one second to respond before his mouth is on mine. The first kiss is slow, deliberate, like he's reminding himself that I'm real and here and his. The second is hungry—lips, tongue, teeth, all of it, like he's trying to make up for lost time.
He drags his hands up my sides, over the ridiculous fur trim on my dress, then cups my face and kisses me so hard I nearly melt through the wall.
I should probably be fighting this, but the truth is, I don't care where we are. I want it even more than he does right now.
I wrap my arms around his neck and open for him, kissing him back with everything I've got.He tastes like cocoa, vodka, and vanilla. His tongue strokes against mine, and I moan, which is apparently the only way I know how to communicate right now.
I don't think he needs words, anyway. He lifts me up, pinning me higher against the wall. My legs go around his waist, and my dress rides up. He's strong enough to hold me with one arm, which is good, because his other hand is busy sliding up my thigh.
"You drive me crazy," he murmurs against my throat, his voice so raw I feel it pulsing against my clit. "I've been thinking about ways to get my hands on you all night."
"You could have just asked," I gasp, already breathless and aching.
He grins, nipping my earlobe. "I'll remember that next time I want to fuck you senseless in a room full of people."
I'm about to reply, but he does something with his thumb that makes my whole body go electric. I arch into him, my head thumping against the wall.
His laugh is dark and smug.
"Shut up," I pant, clawing at his jacket.
He does not shut up, nor does he slow down. He pulls the Santa hat off and tosses it over his shoulder, then attacks my neck with his mouth, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all the way down to my collarbone.
"God, you're gorgeous," he whispers, almost reverent.
I'm not. I'm a mess—hair wild, lipstick smeared, ridiculously festive dress rucked up around my hips. But itdoesn't matter, because when he looks at me, it's like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted.
"I'm so goddamn hard right now, Sunshine."
"I know. I can feel it. Are you going to do something about it?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"Do you need one?" I ask because I thought I was pretty clear already, but if he wants words…well, okay, then. I press my lips to his ear. "Fuck me, Trent. Right here."
He growls like a wild beast, sliding his hand up past my knee, and finds the waistband of my tights. There's nothing slow about the way he rips them—literally rips them—before slipping his fingers inside my panties. He strokes my clit, slow at first, then faster, reading my body like he's memorized every reaction already.
He keeps his eyes on me the whole time. The way he watches me is so intense that I have to look away.
